


Careful, this dog bites

by Spylace



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, BAMF Bucky, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Not while Bucky's watching kids, Possessive Behavior, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective!Bucky, Protectiveness, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 12:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2025336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spylace/pseuds/Spylace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don’t touch Steve Rogers, just don’t. Okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Careful, this dog bites

James Barnes was a smart guy. Had to be keeping little Stevie Rogers alive through the Depression right on the heels of the Prohibition era. Though even now, memories trickled back in little flashes that lit up the back of his eyeballs like a two-by-four or a stun grenade, he recognized the discomfited look on Steve’s face. The arrested _gosh darn it, I’m just too polite to tell you to fuck off sir_. But the Winter Soldier had no such compunctions and waded through the crowd, ignoring the pauses in discussions that demanded recompenses.

“Steve.” Bucky said, crowding against him.

“Bucky?”

But now that he had Steve’s attention, he didn’t know what to do. There were no protocols for situations like these. And he didn’t think that Steve would appreciate blood on his tie, his suit or shiny shoes.

He stood waiting for orders as the worried crease between the other man’s eyes grew deeper and deeper until finally, Steve excused himself and pulled Bucky away. “Whew thanks Buck.” He said once they were out of earshot. “Forgot how boring these parties could be.”

Steve smiled at him and Bucky was charmed. And that became his precedent for interactions with Steve Rogers.

1

It wasn’t easy getting people to keep their hands to themselves. There were some touches Steve initiated, others he enjoyed and Bucky scrambled his brains trying to catalogue them all. The Avengers on the whole weren’t very touchy but they were allowed. Sam Wilson seemed to be fond of building friendly rapport by slapping people on the backs. Senators and their greasy mitts were constantly seeking Steve though Steve didn’t like it—Steve didn’t like touching very many people.

The easiest solution was not to let anyone touch him. Had he been like that? Before? When they were young, before Steve got the body to match his hard head and stubborn heart, nobody wanted to touch him. Thought asthma was a catching thing. _Stupid_ —something muttered deep inside of him and he wholeheartedly agreed.

When a dame laid her sticky fingers on his arms, it wasn’t because Steve was a good kid. It was because she’d heard guys talk and she saw him now, a six-foot goliath who looked like he should be in Hollywood and she’d never seen David so Bucky felt sick and out of sorts instead of proud that Stevie got himself a date.

The list in his head checked friends were okay. Strangers were not. Where did he fit in?

He set the thought aside. It was hard enough keeping everything else straight.

“Steve.” Bucky said. This time he came prepared. The woman standing next to Steve glanced at him and looked away just as quick, cooing that she wanted to get a bit of air. Distracted, Steve turned and asked “What’s wrong?”

He broke the glass in his hand.

It didn’t hurt but it was messy and Steve’s eyes went round when he saw the blood and the glitter of champagne glass scatter across the floor. The blonde number next to him recoiled in horror, a tiny shriek rattling past her lips.

Wilson reached them first, “What’s going on?” but Bucky already had the situation well in hand.

Steve ended up calling the ambulance anyway and they spend the rest of the night picking fragments from his hands.

“If you wanted to go home, you could have just said so Bucky.” Steve said weakly as the doctor gave him a clean bill of health. He snatched his hand back as quickly as he could. His skin crawled where the paramedic had poked it with tweezers and poured peroxide over the cuts. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re upset.”

“Just...” Steve breathed through his teeth. “Don’t do that again.”

 2

Self-harm was unacceptable.

It was a good thing they both had accelerated healing but Steve was an idiot. There was no fight too big or too small for him. He just had to poke his nose into everyone’s business. And while the soldier in him could turn a blind eye when Steve lectured a pack of children from bullying another, settling an argument between a cyclist and a cabdriver, there were the occasional idiots who hadn’t figured out that America’s favorite son was a busybody.

“Stick em up!!” a punk in a ski mask shouted. “Gimme your wallets!”

“Now,” Steve said calmly, raising his hands. He shot Bucky a look, warning him not to move. “I’m sure we can work something out...”

“Shut up!”

Rolling his eyes, Steve held still as the kid began to search his pockets.

Bucky moved.

“Oh my god Bucky, you can’t hurt civilians!” Steve yelped by the time Bucky pinned the squirmy, pimply teenager on the ground.

He raised an eyebrow. “He’s not hurt.”

The punk violently disagreed.

“He’s bleeding!”

Bucky stared dubiously down at their would-be mugger.

“Look,” Steve apologized, kneeling next to him. “I’m really, really sorry about this.”

“Let me go!”

Steve wasn’t very happy when he fed the kid his own ski mask.

3

Steve assembled Romanoff and Barton and failed to check in for twenty-four hours. In retaliation, Bucky kidnapped Wilson from bed—“let me get my pants, Jesus.”—and decided to break into whatever enemy stronghold that was holding him and the other two.

Wilson opined that his reaction was disproportionate to the situation but carried him easily over the wall, landing on a rooftop that only had two guards and a camera to protect it. It was easy enough breaking in. Romanoff didn’t seem overtly surprised at the explosive entrance though Barton did mutter something about taking cover before he went ‘Winter Soldier’ on their ass.

Leaving Wilson in charge of the prisoners, Bucky went looking for Steve. He found Steve in a greyed out cell, looking like someone had been using him as their personal punching bag. The possible culprit was an ugly sumbitch with a thinning hairline. Steve disapproved of punching civilians. This mook was not a civilian. He was even considerate enough to catch him after capping him both knees. Maybe either Romanoff or Hill would want him?

“Hey Bucky.” Steve greeted, licking the blood off his lips.

Steve looked okay, the bruises were already fading into yellow patches around the edge. Bucky ruffled the matted hair, careful not to touch the goose-egg at the back of his skull, and turned his lips up reassuringly.

“You didn’t have to do that.” The other man said as he cut him loose. Bucky looked up and Steve said, “come after me I mean.”

“Wilson came too.”

“Oh?”

Ducking his head Bucky said shyly, “I promised to follow you until the end of the line.”

“Yo Rogers!” Wilson interrupted. “You decent?!”

“Yeah! I’m fine by the way! Thanks for asking!”

Wilson poked his head around the corner and saw the mastermind lying on the floor, still alive. “Man,” he said, “You do know what that means in cat-language right?”

“He’s protective.” Steve protested, apparently fluent in this cat-language.

“Are you ever going to make an honest man out of him?” Wilson asked, patching the man up long enough he would survive transportation.

“It’s not like that!”

Bucky tuned out the rest of the conversation.

It couldn’t possibly mean anything anyway.

 4

Steve didn’t like doctors.

It was a trait shared across board with most operatives. But for them, it was intrinsic. Born from the serum in their blood and days on a surgical table. Bad memories, not enough good ones. Bucky blinked as though he had a tick.

When a medic came with first aid, he gently pushed him aside and tore open the kit himself, kneeling beside Steve to check that there was nothing broken, burnt or bleeding that required an actual doctor rather than his mismatched arms. Because doctors were bad but they had their uses in preventing serious malfunctions and once he was satisfied that Steve was alright, went about flushing the cuts and scrapes and butterfly strips on the deeper ones.

He touched him as little as possible. When his fingers skirted down a pulse point, Steve caught his hand. There was something on the tip of his tongue, something smart, possibly crass, but would have made Steve laugh. But instead of scolding him like he ought, Steve said “Thanks for coming after us today.”

Warmth tickled his cheeks.

“Any time.”

 5

Steve had finally grown wise to his ways. He looked put upon and resigned when he spotted him push past a throng of people yet his eyes lit up like the sun on a clear morning sky.

“I had them on the ropes.” He complained as he disengaged from the target and threw an arm around his shoulder.

“Sure you did buddy, sure.”

Steve grinned sheepishly.

“At least no one’s bleeding this time.”

Past the doorway and out into a sprawling garden, Steve hadn’t let go. Bucky saw it fit to remind him. “You shouldn’t touch me.”

Immediately, Bucky regretted his words. The heavy warmth of Steve’s arm left him and in its place was an emptiness that made his shoulders sink.

“I’m sorry.” Steve said abashed. “I forget sometimes.”

“It’s okay if you want to touch.” Bucky clarified because he could never deny Steve long. “But you don’t have to.”

The other man frowned.

“Is this about people touching me or...”

“I don’t get to touch you.”

“Well if anyone has the right to touch me, I think you do Bucko.” Steve said wryly.

He was touched but felt that the trust was misplaced. As though reading off a mission brief, he droned “You show aversion to handshakes and physical contact from strangers. From acquaintances, exceptions include Senator Stivak, Dr. Malus...” Steve clamped a hand over his mouth. He licked it just to see what Steve would do. Steve simply snorted with laughter and asked, “That doesn’t really explain why you don’t get to touch me. I thought we were doing good. What’s wrong?”

Bucky met his gaze and said glumly, “I hurt you.”

“You weren’t you.” Steve said, exasperated. “See?” Steve cupped the sides of his face, rubbing his cheek. “It doesn’t hurt Buck.”

“But...”

“No Buts.” Steve said firmly. “From now on you can touch me however much you like, hugs, handholding, _anything_.”

Bucky dropped his eyes and swallowed. Anything wasn’t in his repertoire. He was always given a strict set of parameters. All possible deviations were accounted for and corrected. Corrections hurt. He trembled; he didn’t want to get this wrong.

Slowly, he reached out and laced their fingers together. Steve beamed and didn’t let go for the rest of the evening.

 +1

It seemed natural to gravitate to each other’s orbit and stay there. If Steve’s friends found it odd, they didn’t comment and for Bucky, it made his life easier keeping Steve straight and narrow, away from the hungry-eyed populace who kept trying to touch him.

“Morning.” Steve yawned, hooking his fingers around Bucky’s belt hoop and turning him away from a staring contest with a squirrel.

“Made breakfast.”

Steve hummed, dumping maple syrup on top of his pancakes. “It’s good.”

Distracted, Bucky turned his head and breathed into the damp blond hair. “You always say that.” It smelled like soap. Steve’s hair was much nicer when he used shampoo.

“Because it’s true.” Steve argued, knocking their foreheads together.

“You think combat rations are good.”

“Well,” Steve admitted. “That was mostly to get Monty to stop complaining.”

Bucky wiggled in his seat, ending halfway in the other man’s lap. Steve automatically wrapped an arm around his waist, fingers hot against the waistband as he absentmindedly traced the line of his hipbone through the fabric. “Want some?” Steve asked with a skewered bacon, knowing that Bucky had already eaten but asking anyway.

He hesitated.

“Nah.”

Bucky sat still as Steve worked through his plate. Warm, he dozed off in Steve’s arms and barely twitched when he saw the bushy flicker of a squirrel’s tail.

“I think...” he started and forgot like he always forgot.

“Hm?” Bucky leaned his head against the other man’s chest and felt his throat bob against his ear. “Take your time Buck.”

“I like this.” He realized in a starburst of memory spangling his brain. His fingers snagged the back of Steve’s shirt and squeezed. A hand rubbed his back soothingly. “I like this a lot. I like you too.” Bucky informed him and was startled to see a lazy grin stretch across Steve’s face.

“That’s right.” Steve dropped a kiss on his forehead. “Because I like you too.”


End file.
